A Space of Flowers
by Belfast Docks
Summary: For those who asked for more Archibald & Lilias. A romance in 13 parts.


For all those who asked for more of Archibald and Lilias.

**Quick Author's Note: **I think the majority of people are probably more familiar with the 1993 movie than the novel, so to clarify one thing before you read: In the novel, Lilias and Mary's mother were not sisters. I think this might be something from the 1993 movie (which I haven't seen), but in chapter two of the novel, Lord Craven tells Mrs. Medlock that Mary's father, Captain Lennox, was Lilias's brother. Just so you know, I write per the novel. I have nothing against the 1993 movie, I just haven't seen it. (On the other hand, I have seen the BBC mini series, which is really good and follows the book closely, but it was definitely made turning the 70's, LOL. Okay, moving on...!)

**Disclaimers:** The bullet headings are various lines in Lord Tennyson's famous poem, _The Lady of Shallot_, which I thought seemed quite appropriate. And let's face it, I'm a literature junkie. Section V is exactly the same as Chapter 63 of _Aftermath_ (with some minor changes), since that's what started this. I had to create names for Captain Lennox and his wife; I choose Ruby because in the novel, Mary's mother was more interested in parties and materialistic things than her own daughter, and I choose William because it was a common boy's name from 1800 forward.

**Warnings: **Heed the rating. Nothing terribly explicit, but heavily implied.

~BD

* * *

**four gray walls and four gray towers**

**overlook a space of flowers ~**

* * *

**I. where the lilies blow ~**

The silken blindfold is cool against her eyes, and yet at the same time it is quite annoying. Once again she asks where he is leading her, what this _grand surprise_ is, and once again the response is the same – amused silence.

"Oh Archie!" she protests. "This is most unfair. You've led me all over the grounds! I've no idea where we are!"

"Which is _why_ I led you everywhere. I knew you would try to guess our direction, otherwise."

She huffs softly and he chuckles at her frustration, but says nothing to further.

A few moments later, she realizes they have stepped off of the neat gravel path and into a flower bed, of all things. The ground is soft beneath her buttoned shoes and she brushes past low bushes. His hands release her elbow and her palm and she is left alone for a few seconds. Her ears catch the sound of a key and lock, then the creak of hinges. She cannot imagine where they are; she knows of no doors behind any of the flower beds about the manor grounds.

He takes her hand again and pulls her forward. A vine brushes her right arm and she reaches out blindly, and her fingers skim past trailing ivy. She stumbles once against a low step and he catches her deftly, murmuring that he won't let her fall; her feet then find soft grass and she straightens. She hears the door close behind them, and the lock scrape quietly.

He takes both of her hands now, and leads her a few more steps forward, before he releases her and moves behind her. She feels the knot in the blindfold loosen and her anticipation increases; she keeps her eyes closed even after the fluttering silk slides away.

His lips brush her ear, making her skin tingle expectantly.

"What do you think, love?" he whispers.

Her eyes flutter open; her breath catches.

* * *

**II. shadows of the world appear ~**

Despite everything that has happened to her in her short life, she isn't one to call it _tragic_. She once remarked to her guardian, Aunt Millicent, that even Naomi experienced times of joy before her husband and sons died, before one daughter-in-law left her and the other remained stubbornly and steadfastly at her side. And even after Naomi returned to her homeland, her life eventually became good again – for Ruth married Boaz and Naomi found peace once more.

Her parents would have thought the comparison remarkable for a young lady of fourteen years; Aunt Millicent tells her not to speak so loudly, please.

Lilias Lennox had been but four years old when her parents died; she barely remembers them. William, however, had been twelve, and had been much more responsive to their deaths. When they were still alive, her brother had been attentive and affectionate towards her; now, he is distracted and quiet, too absorbed in his schooling and too focused on his desire to enter the military to place much emphasis his younger sister – except to visit her a few times for short durations each week and ask how she is getting on.

And oh, but how Lilias adores William! The older brother who knows everything, and is so much worldlier than she! In the rare event that he has more than thirty minutes to spend with her, he will sit and chat with her, or assist her with her studies. He listens to her complain about how strict Aunt Millicent is, or how she can't quite make her fingers stretch to play a certain chord on the piano, or that she is dreadfully nervous to attend a tea at Lady Talbot's the next afternoon.

But then, one dreadful day, when he sides with Aunt Millicent, she believes that she has lost him forever. And she wonders if _this_ is the bitterness that Naomi felt when her husband and sons died and left her alone in the world.

She was only playing outside – perhaps improper for a young lady of fourteen years. But the garden was so beautiful and Lilias was so enchanted by the flowers that she couldn't help going out when she had a free moment, and her imagination soon got the better of her. She had played in the gardens as a child (under the watchful eye of a governess, of course) and she thought nothing of playing in them now. However, when she is finally found out and dragged back inside an hour later, it seems that everyone is upset with her. No girl of fourteen years, especially one who holds such a place in society as Lilias Lennox, should ever be _playing_, never mind _outside_!

Aunt Millicent is furious at the state of her dress and her stockings and her shoes; her hair is all out of place and her hands are _filthy_, for God's sake! William, who happens to stop by for one of his visits in the midst of the fury, immediately agrees with their stuffy old aunt and informs Lilias in a cold voice that she mustn't play out of doors in the wind and sun and dirt, for she is a _lady_, and he orders her to go upstairs and change, for she looks a disgrace.

The words sting terribly, like a deep scratch from a thorn, only they go so much deeper than a mere prick against her skin. Tears leak out of her eyes and down her rosy cheeks, she buries her face in her hands and begins to cry. Before anyone can stop her, she sprints from the decadent parlor and up the stairs, ignoring Aunt Millicent's angry outburst to stop crying _at once_, and how _dare_ she run indoors!

She defies everyone by running all the way to the top floor of the house, into the attic of the grand mansion, and hides behind some old mattresses to cry for as long as she likes.

Some time later, the tears finally slow and she comes to the horrible realization that her childhood is at an end. A dull sort of hollowness settles in her chest, and she hates it.

At dinner, she pays for her mistake of running out of the parlor – when she has finally had a bath and changed into clean clothes and her maid has pulled her hair back into proper style. Aunt Millicent and William spend two hours lecturing her on the importance of acting like a lady, on her future debut into society, on how she will need to present herself properly in order to secure a husband.

Lilias listens to their angry tirades with a cool sort of detachment, nodding in all of the right places and saying "Yes ma'am" and "No, ma'am" and "Of course, William" when she is required. But she rebels within herself, determined that one day, she shall play in the flowers as much as she likes – when she is out from under Aunt Millicent's rule and William no longer has control over her.

* * *

**III. God in his mercy lend her grace ~**

Ruby is everything Lilias is not, and from the moment she met her future sister-in-law, it took all of her sweet disposition not to rail against her brother's decision.

William is twenty-four and already a Lieutenant, Ruby is eighteen and the darling of this season's debutantes, and all of their acquaintances and friends gush over what a lovely couple they are. The dashing officer in his uniform, the beautiful lady with her flowing gowns of lace and silk. How absolutely divine!

Lilias, now sixteen, understands more of what her brother had tried to tell her that evening after she had played out of doors in the gardens. She still doesn't necessarily agree with it, but in her aunt's mansion, Millicent's word is law and Lilias daren't disobey. She does exactly what is expected of her: She is polite and gentle and learns her needlepoint and piano with grace and ease. She attends finishing school and she goes with Aunt Millicent to teas and garden parties and she never speaks until an elder speaks to her first. She knows many ladies, more than a few of whom she does not understand, let alone enjoy their company. But she pretends she does, because that is the expectation.

Still, Ruby is the first woman she doesn't actually _like_, and it bothers Lilias greatly.

It bothers her because this is her brother's choice – and she has no earthly idea why. Any _sensible_ person can see that Ruby's brilliant blue eyes are calculating, that her nose is slightly upturned, and her full lips are more sarcastic than pleasant. She cares little for anyone who isn't _some_one, and her favorite topics of conversation are gossip, gowns, gossip, upcoming balls, parties, gossip, jewelry, tomorrow's afternoon tea at the Straffords', and gossip.

Lilias can rarely get a word in edgewise around Ruby, who looks at her quite strangely if Lilias makes any comments such as, _Aren't the flowers lovely today out in the garden? _or _It's such a beautiful day._

In hopes of trying to come to terms with how she feels, she tries to discuss the situation with William. To her annoyance, what she considers a thoughtful analysis of Ruby falls upon deaf ears.

"Oh, Lilias," he chuckles, (after she tries to persuade him that Ruby can't even remember where his next military assignment is). "It doesn't matter! She doesn't need to be concerned with the affairs of state. I do. That's my duty. Ruby need only be charming and lovely, which she always is, and that is all I care about."

Lilias stares at him in revulsion, bites her tongue, and forces herself _not_ to tell him just how un-charming and un-lovely Ruby is.

"But you'd best spend the afternoon with her – she mentioned last night that she wanted to take you shopping with her, because she thinks you're so adorably pretty. And she's right. You are." He taps her nose affectionately, much to Lilias's chagrin. "She's quite envious of your hair, actually," he adds, smiling indulgently at her.

"Her hair is practically the same color as mine, William! Why should she be envious of what she already has?"

"No, it isn't. Hers is more golden, where yours is pale. Like moonlight. And she thinks your eyes are so incredibly striking – which, you must admit, is true."

Her expression turns stony, which matches her usually-sparkling gray eyes all too well. She doesn't get a chance to tell him how utterly silly Ruby is, for Aunt Millicent comes into the front hall at that moment and launches into a monologue about how happy she is for her nephew on finding such a perfect lady to be his wife, and how Lilias should look to her upcoming sister-in-law for advice on eligible men, clothing, and the proper parties and balls to attend – so that Lilias, too, can find a suitable match.

Lilias says nothing, but by the time she is out in the gardens for afternoon tea and her French lesson, she is quite in a mood and takes to shredding a leaf she's snatched off of a low-hanging tree branch before her tutor arrives. In a way, it at least releases some of her angry energy.

* * *

**IV. starry clusters bright ~**

Looking over the marble balustrades down into the ornate ballroom, she can see hundreds of people – all dancing, laughing, drinking champagne from glittering, cut-crystal flutes. The orchestra is playing a waltz; the shimmering silk and lace and jewels of ladies' gowns swirl in the bright light of the gas lamps. Occasionally, she catches a flash of gold or silver – buttons and braiding and medallions and medals on the officers gathered, or the pocket watch chains of the gentlemen who are not in the military.

She swallows and reminds herself not to clench her satin-gloved hands against the marble.

"Everyone who is someone is here tonight!" Her sister-in-law breathes in her left ear. She cringes slightly as the older girl goes on, "They will all just adore you! I know they will!"

Lilias can't say she cares much about being adored. She's too nervous and she feels slightly nauseated, something her new, lace-trimmed corset isn't helping with at all.

"I don't know _any_one," she protests weakly, but Ruby cuts her short.

"Oh, nonsense! You'll know more people than you think! And I know that several young gentlemen have been asking William about you," she adds, her red lips curving mischievously. There is a fraction of a pause, then, "What I wouldn't give sometimes," she adds with a dramatic sigh, "to be a debutant again myself, with all the men fawning over me! Oh, don't get me wrong; I do simply adore William. But there is something wonderful about being petted and fawned over and utterly free to choose. Well, come then! So many people for you to meet tonight! Your card will fill up quickly and we want to make certain it fills with only the most eligible of gentlemen! I'll see to that, dear. Don't you worry your pretty little head about a thing!"

Ruby sweeps past her, down the first flight of marble steps, tells the butler what he is to say, and proceeds down the grand stairs into the ballroom as her name and titles and her husband's titles are announced.

Lilias wonders briefly if she can flee back the way she came, but she knows she can't. Nervously, she glides down the stairs to the announcer, whispers what he is to say for her, and proceeds into the ballroom, which becomes instantaneously quiet as her name rings out. She falters on the first step, realizing that she is now the center of attention. Oh, how she hates it! A sea of faces swims before her; she steps down two more before she finally finds William's in the crowd. She manages a small smile as she meets his eyes and focuses on him – the only reason she is able to concentrate on navigating the remaining steps.

William meets her at the bottom and takes her arm, and she is immensely grateful, because she suddenly seems to notice so many more young men than she thought possible to be in a single room – even a huge ballroom.

And so the evening drags on, with William and Ruby introducing her to so many men that she can't possibly remember them all. Ruby takes control of her dance card; Lilias can't help but wince every time she is whisked onto the floor, because her feet start to hurt within an hour. And if she's not on the dance floor having to think of some sort of conversation to engage whatever partner she is matched with at that moment, she is standing on the edge of the ballroom listening to Ruby's insufferable prattle about the most eligible and the least eligible. Her sister-in-law is completely brutal at times; she rakes one Lord over the coals at least twice, pointing out a man always skulking in the corners looking as out of place as Lilias feels.

She wonders why on earth Ruby is the way she is, but doesn't have time to formulate any semblance of an answer, for a young Captain is bowing before her and asking for the next dance. Ruby forgets all about the Lord she'd just been bashing and practically pushes Lilias onto the dance floor yet again.

* * *

**V. low sky raining ~**

She is trying desperately not to cry, for if she does, she'll ruin her face and then she won't be able to return to the ballroom at all. People will talk, rumors will fly, Aunt Millicent will be disappointed, her brother will be baffled, and her sister-in-law _still_ won't understand her. Rather, her sister-in-law will probably be the one _spreading_ the rumors, she thinks bitterly.

It all nearly makes her burst into tears anyways. She chokes down a quiet sob and takes a few deep, gulping breathes to steady herself.

Her entire life of eighteen years seems to have been leading up to this moment – this one extravagant ball in which she was to make her grand debut into society – when in reality, she feels like a trapped bird in a gilded cage, dressed in an expensive pale pink silk gown dripping with lace and pearls, her hair done up fashionably, while a slightly tighter corset then usual bites into her delicate frame. No one has ever really understood her, it seems. She's much too shy for being the center of attention and she's terrified of making mistakes. She has only ever had her preoccupied, elder brother and her great-aunt as guardians - neither of whom has been overly affectionate, especially as of late.

They would never understand, for instance, how she feels about her debut. Perhaps worse than the idea of making mistakes, are all the men in attendance tonight. And good God, but they do seem to be everywhere, and all at once! All of them drawn to her, swarming about her, their eyes flaring in the lights as they take in her appearance and decide that they are pleased with her, that she will make an excellent, submissive sort of society wife to parade about, as though she were nothing more than a show dog. Men her own age, men twice her age, even men four times her age with white hair and wrinkled brows, each of them wondering if they will be honored with more then a waltz...

And yet, she may have somehow managed to remain calm despite these nerve-racking attentions, and continue to be as polite and sweet as her etiquette lessons have taught her, had Ruby not dragged William into the waltz. A scheme, no doubt, that her frivolous sister-in-law had likely concocted to thrust poor Lilias into the center of so many men without the hovering aid of her serious brother, and force her to agree to dance with yet another potential suitor. Her silly card is quite full; she can't possibly dance with _all_ of them, and her shoes pinch her feet on top of everything else.

Then, to her horror, a crunch of gravel catches her attention and she tenses in fear. She shouldn't have slipped out unnoticed, for someone will surely realize that she is gone! Furthermore, it would be highly improper to meet anyone out in the secluded gardens without her brother to act as her chaperone. Then she will be talked over, which is even worse!

A moment later, a man steps around the corner of the hedge and catches sight of her; she remains frozen, like a rabbit terrified the hounds will chase it if it moves. In the moonlight, she recognizes him, though she hasn't met him personally. Ruby pointed him out to her earlier in the evening a couple of times, with barely concealed mirth that erupted into giggles more then once.

_"Oh, and _that _is __Lord Archibald Craven, skulking in the corner as always, if he even bothers to attend such events! He's quite peculiar. And ancient! They say he's not even nine-and-twenty, but he acts as though he's nine-and-fifty! See his shoulders? As he grows older, he becomes more and more hunched, until before you know it, he shall be Quasimodo! Perhaps her Majesty the Queen will put him in Saint Paul's so that he may ring the bells! ...Ah, Captain Dexter! So good to see you, sir! Have you met dearest Lilias yet? This is Lilias Lennox, my husband's darling little sister. But of course you shall have a dance with her! I'm sure she has a waltz free, don't you, Lilias?"_

The seconds tick by; he seems too startled to turn and walk away, and she is too frightened to move at all. But after a few tense moments, he mumbles a hasty apology for interrupting her solitude, and turns to go back the way he came.

"No, wait!" She speaks before she thinks, her hand suddenly outstretched as if to stop him. With a strange rush of clarity, she only knows that she feels sorry for him, more sorry then she feels for herself, because everyone else seems to tease the poor man so and he doesn't appear to have the first friend here tonight. What has he done to deserve that? Has he not socialized the way society expected? She can understand that; she is always afraid she will say or do the wrong thing. She always feels as though no one understands her shyness and desire for quiet pursuits. Not her great-aunt, whose only desire is to make certain Lilias enters society before the woman's death, nor her brother, who is too concerned with the state of military affairs in India to think of much else right now, and certainly not Ruby, whose main desire in life is to be seen and admired by the world.

And oh, but no one would understand her now at all, she thinks with sudden horror. A proper lady would _never_ demand a man that she doesn't even know, to remain alone with her! Flushing furiously, she stammers, "What I meant was, please don't go on my account. I was just... admiring the gardens. It's so stuffy inside, and..." She trails off again, flustered and upset. She should never have opened her mouth...! What must he think of her? She twists her gloved fingers and looks away, unable to meet his gaze. What if he returns to the ball and tells everyone how peculiar she is? Oh, heavens!

However, after an excruciatingly long pause, he asks hesitatingly, "Do you... like gardens?"

When she dares to glance up at him, she finds that his brow is furrowed and he looks somewhat confused. Evidently, Lord Archibald Craven is not accustomed to a lady requesting his company or even initiating a conversation with him.

In a small voice, she says, "Yes, sir. Especially the ones in the country. They always seem so wild and beautiful. These," she gestures slightly towards the row of neat, tiny flowers that form a border to the hedges, "look so pitiful and forced."

In a way, she thinks, they remind her of herself: _Unhappy_. The trouble is, she's not certain what would _make_ her happy in life anymore.

The corner of his mouth turns upward just a fraction, but she notices that his words border cynicism. "Colonel Humphries is not known for anything, if not rigid order," he states dryly.

"So my brother has advised me," she replies automatically, almost becoming _Lilias_, instead of _The Lilias Society Expects_. Then, startled at how easily the words came, how easily she slipped into being her real self around this strange man whom she does not know, she stammers politely, "Not that he isn't an excellent host, of course!"

Lord Craven ignores the last comment, and instead replies, "Speaking of Captain Lennox, I am surprised he allowed you out of his sight, Miss Lennox. I understood from Colonel Humphries that this was your debut."

"Yes, sir. It is." She sighs, almost petulantly. "But my sister-in-law insisted that William dance with her, and she left me alone to my own devices. I'm sure she expected me to continue entertaining all of the eligible young men in the entire Empire, but I'm not very good at conversation and I thought the fresh air would help clear my head. I will go back in now, only _please_ don't tell anyone where I was. I'm so terrified of making mistakes, and no one would understand why I'd left. Especially not Ruby, or even William."

It is too dark for her to see the expression in his eyes, but he offers his arm and says quietly, "I understand. I'll walk you as far as the first terrace."

She hesitates, but this gesture is nothing more then politeness. She tucks her gloved fingers into the crook of his elbow and gathers up her train. To her surprise, a strange feeling of exhaustion and relief sweep through her at the exact same time when she touches him; she looks up, his eyes catch the moonlight and she notices how sad and soulful they are, almost as though they can see into _her_ soul instead of just her outside appearance, but not in a way that makes her feel uneasy. He is all kindness. Any other man may not have behaved so gentlemanly towards her tonight as he has, she is sure of that.

And really, his shoulders are not as hunched as Ruby insinuated. They are merely a bit higher up then most men, giving him a drawn-in appearance, perhaps. And nine-and-twenty isn't overly old, either. Lilias can't say either fact bothers her in the least.

"Thank you," she says softly.

He looks surprised by the gentleness in her voice, before he nods that he heard her. They fall into an awkward silence until they reach the terrace, and there, he pauses before hesitantly kissing her fingertips and gesturing back up the steps for her to continue the rest of the journey alone.

Despite the strange tingling sensation she feels from her hand to her shoulder, starting from the point where lips chastely brushed her glove, she quickly gathers her dress and slips back inside of the ball; moments later, her brother finds her lurking in one of the boudoirs and scolds her for disappearing to the powder room unnoticed. But Lilias barely hears him and doesn't bother correcting his assumption, and for the rest of the night, she can't help but look over her dance partners' shoulders to seek out Lord Craven's gaze.

Nor can she help feeling giddy at the fact that it's always on her.

* * *

**VI. half-sick of shadows ~**

"I don't understand! To my knowledge, she's never even spoken to the man before in her life!"

"_I_ certainly didn't allow her to _dance_ with him, I can assure you! Who on earth _would_?"

"He's completely out of the question! I won't allow this. I won't!"

"Of course you shan't, William! He's so strange! And odd! All of London would be talking if you allowed it, darling. Sweet little Lilias can do better."

"Well, I for one am not certain what the two of you are so concerned about, to be perfectly honest."

Aunt Millicent's sharp voice interrupts William's and Ruby's tirade, and Lilias, standing in the hall just outside the parlor door, leans slightly closer to listen. No one knows she's there, and she'd rather keep it that way for as long as possible.

"Aunt Millie," William says wearily, as though he's tired of explaining, "he's too old for her!"

"How utterly ridiculous, William. He's not even thirty. And he's a Lord, with quite a bit of money tied to the funds. No, I can't say I've found anything to be disappointed about thus far. By all accounts, he is a sensible match for her. And so quickly! It's really quite perfect. We can't have wished for better luck!"

"It's far from perfect! He's _peculiar_!" William protests. "All of London knows that there's something odd about the man! He rarely attends any of the events in town and travels God knows where, or spends most of his time at his country home! Lilias can't be expected to live in the _country_! It would be absurd! She's a well bred young lady!"

"He has a townhouse, I believe," Aunt Millicent responds thoughtfully. "Most men with that sort of money and title usually do."

"But Mrs. Worthington," Ruby interjects. "Society speaks so ill of him. That, alone, is enough to turn his proposals down! Lilias would become a laughing stock were you to agree to allow him to court her."

"For starters, Ruby, I don't need either of you to tell me what I can and can't do," snaps the elderly lady. "And secondly, just because _you_ wouldn't want to marry the man, doesn't mean the girl wouldn't be interested."

Ruby must have been hurt by this response, because William says tersely, "Aunt Millicent, listen to reason! Ruby is perfectly right!"

"Well, personally, I don't see what all of the fuss is about myself. Who else do _you_ have in mind for her, William?"

"Captains, Lieutenants... At least one Major has asked about her, and a Colonel!"

Sarcastically, she muses, "And the Major and Colonel _aren't_ too old for her, hm?"

There is a long pause; Lilias can only imagine what her brother's face must look like at being put into his place by Aunt Millicent.

"But they are well-established," Ruby begins.

"Ah, I see. And a Lord, with wealth tied to the funds, _isn't_ well established?"

There is another long pause and, finally unable to stand her future being decided _for_ her, Lilias straightens her shoulders, narrows her expression, and sweeps into the room in a whirl of pale green silk and chiffon.

"Seeing as _I'm_ the one to be courted and eventually married off," she says briskly, relishing the shocked expressions on Ruby's and William's faces that she has been eavesdropping and would interrupt in such a deliberate, confident fashion, "I think _I_ should have some say in the matter. _No_, William! I won't let you decide whom I'm to spend the rest of my life with! That's most unfair. You most certainly didn't ask my opinion when you married, now did you?"

"An excellent point. Tell me, girl," Aunt Millicent says, eyeing her critically. "What do _you_ think of Lord Archibald Craven? Did you speak to him last night, at your debut? Ruby says you did not, but I'd rather here what _you_ have to say on the matter."

"As a matter of fact, I _did_ speak with him," Lilias answers, keeping her posture perfect and eyeing Ruby smugly. "And," she adds, over renewed protests of her brother and sister-in-law, "I liked him very much. Did he call, this morning?"

"He did. And so, you prefer the Lord to the military men, do you?"

Something flutters in Lilias's stomach at the thought that Lord Craven has already called on her and spoken to Aunt Millicent about courting her seriously. "I thought him charming and polite. A perfect gentleman. I would certainly _not_ mind if he wished to court me. In fact, I prefer it."

"In that case, I shall write to him directly, and give him _our_ answer," Aunt Millicent states baldly, rising to her feet with the aid of her cane. "William, Ruby, I believe this discussion is over."

"_Over_?" William looks incredulous. "She met the man for all of what, _five minutes_? And she's determined to court him over a dozen _other_ eligible men? Aunt Millie, you cannot be serious! Her debut was _last night_. This is far too soon!"

"You would not be saying such if Captain Johnson were to call today, nor Colonel Buford, I'm sure."

William flushes a deep, unbecoming pink that makes his face look mottled. Ruby glares furiously, her face becoming strikingly paler as William's grows darker. Lilias smiles sweetly at them and says, "I suppose I had best go ask Janie to help me select a lovely gown for dinner then, shall I?"

"Your gray dress, girl," her aunt calls from the secretariat. "It brings out the color of your eyes quite nicely, in my opinion."

* * *

**VII. the sun came dazzling ~**

She has lost count of the number of kisses she's stolen from him, because it's unladylike to steal kisses and William would be appalled. But she can't help stealing them – when the sunlight touches his eyes just right they become hopeful and bright instead of dark and moody. And she won't break his heart for anything. Besides, _he_ doesn't seem to mind when she steals kisses. Not in the least. Archie seems most unconcerned with the typical standards of society, and that suits Lilias just fine.

She glances over her shoulder, back through the polished, carved archway that leads from the conservatory into the rear hall. Seeing no one, she tugs his hand and pulls him behind a leafy, tropical plant until they are well hidden. He follows like a slave, _her_ slave, and once she is certain they cannot be seen, she drags his face down and finds his lips gently with hers.

He does not complain or protest that they are being improper; he never does. His hands inch quickly around her tiny waist; she tries to remember through the hazy, pleasant fog _not_ to twist her fingers into his dark hair, for the last time she did so she mused it so badly that William stared at him in confusion for nearly fifteen minutes.

His lips leave hers and trail down her neck, as though he cannot help himself, and Lilias moans softly as her blood seems to grow too hot for words and the sun streams through the high, thick windows and heats her shoulders, and she begins to lose herself in Archie.

And then he abruptly releases her. Her lips tingle at the change and grow cooler. She wonders why he stepped away; but after a moment, distantly, she hears Aunt Millicent calling to her.

She huffs softly and complains under her breath, "Oh, bother!"

"We shouldn't –" he starts, but she turns to give him a half-exasperated sort of look. He trails off, as though he's lost the thread of what he was saying.

"If we were married we could, and no one would stop us. I _hate_ having to stop when..." The words escape her before she has thought about them, because it seems that whenever she is around Archie, she doesn't _have_ to think before she speaks. She can be _Lilias_ around Archie, and it's so easy to forget that she has a place in society and should think before she speaks.

Her face suddenly feels warm and her lover suddenly looks embarrassed at her words, and she stammers quickly, "I'm sorry. That wasn't... I shouldn't've... I'm so sorry, sir..."

She starts to hurry out of the conservatory before her aunt finds her with him, alone – but before she has gone two paces, Archie has grasped her hand and pulled her back. She turns to face him, flushed and upset at blurting out her words before thinking first, but to her shock, he drops to one knee and stumbles frightfully over _his_ next words, as though he's terrified that she may reject him completely.

"Then marry me, Lilias. If... If you would, I mean..."

Her knees give way; he catches her and holds her to his breast, his face buried in her hair.

"Do you mean it?" she breathes softly, clutching at his waistcoat. "Oh, Archie, do you really mean it?"

"Of course I mean it! I can't fathom why you would want such a peculiar man as myself, but... Lilias, I can't live without you. I'm hopelessly in love with you; I have been since the night I met you."

That, it seems, is all she ever wanted to hear. Thank God it was Archie who said it to her, and not anyone else.

* * *

**VIII. a song that echoes cheerly ~**

Lilias moves about her room as though dancing. Her room – which won't be her room in another three days. In another three days, it will merely be another guest bedroom in Aunt Millicent's huge mansion; another guest room that will never get used. She swirls and giggles when her skirt follows her movements luxuriously, and she sweeps up a couple of pairs of kid gloves and moves to pack them into one of several trunks lying open around her bed.

Her voice lilts as she hums and murmurs a few bars of song, she closes her eyes and twirls with her arms around herself, and when she comes to a halt she picks up a plumed hat in a chair and examines it, before placing it securely in a hatbox.

In three days, she will be Lady Archibald Craven. In three days, she will have everything she has ever wanted.

The only possible thing to mar her joy is that Aunt Millicent has caught a cold and the doctor has said she should not venture outside of her mansion, not even for Lilias's wedding. But she must get married as soon as possible, because William is due in Calcutta in less than three weeks, and Lilias has no desire to remain by herself in London, cooped up with sickly, failing Aunt Millicent, who's health has been in decline the past two months since Lilias started courting Lord Craven. Maybe it makes Lilias a tad selfish to want to escape her aunt, but whenever she glances at the photograph of her fiancée on her night table, she cannot help but be glad that she is somewhat selfish. Because she's hopelessly in love with Archie, and Aunt Millicent rarely understands her. Lilias is sometimes surprised her aunt sided with her so quickly about Archie, but she knows better than to question it. She would never want Millicent to rethink the idea; Lilias would elope before she married anyone else.

* * *

**IX. the wave that runs forever ~**

When the pastor suddenly clears his throat loudly, she realizes she's been kissing Archie in front of the empty church (save for William, Ruby, and Archie's younger brother) for far too long. She draws back and diverts her eyes, feeling rather embarrassed at her actions, and slightly nettled because she wonders _why_ she should feel embarrassed about kissing her husband.

She'll be glad when they're in their carriage, and no one can stop her then.

* * *

**X. meet the sky ~**

She cannot help gazing rapturously out of the carriage window, watching as the twilight touches the edge of the moor and a few stars twinkle out of the velvety blue-lavender. The air is cold, and a crisp, thin layer of snow lies upon the frosty ground, but she cannot help but think that it is all so incredibly beautiful.

"It is much prettier in the spring," he says wistfully. "It's so dull right now, I'm afraid. There is no color, no life..."

She tears her eyes from the landscape before her and turns them to him; she finds that he is watching her with trepidation, as though worried she will be unhappy here.

"We should have embarked for France immediately, instead of waiting a week. It would have been better," he adds slowly, "had you seen Missel Moor for the first time in the spring, and not the winter."

"Oh, nonsense!" she cries. "It is breathtaking! I cannot imagine a more beautiful place!"

He seems to brighten a little. "Well. _I_ think it is pretty in winter, but it does get a bit sad at times."

She eyes him from beneath long lashes before she shifts from sitting across from him, to sitting beside him. He tenses slightly at the change and she curls up against him, her fingers sliding up his coat to his jaw to turn his face to hers.

"Do you think you will be sad this winter?" she whispers.

Utterly mesmerized, he stares at her, unable to speak.

She repeats herself, running her finger beneath his lower lip. "Do you think you will be sad this winter, Archie?"

His tongue darts out and wets his chapped lips, touching her gloved finger as well, and he suddenly crushes his mouth against hers, and then she is climbing into his lap to get closer to him, despite the difficulties of the movement due to her corset and skirts and petticoats and coat and hat – all finery given to her by Aunt Millicent in honor of her wedding. She can feel his hands sliding beneath her to hold her in place; she whimpers and leans her head back and Archie assaults her throat.

The carriage hits a bump in the rutted road over the moor, and they both nearly fall out of the seat onto the floor. Lilias tries not to giggle as her hat goes askew despite two crystal hatpins, and Archie smiles at her in a way that makes her completely giddy.

"Blasted clothes," she complains softly, sliding back into her seat. "There are simply too many of them and they make things so impossibly difficult! Who on earth decided petticoats were fashionable? I suppose I should be grateful that bustles are out of style, shouldn't I?"

Archie laughs, and leans over to kiss her ear. "Aye, tha should."

He has rarely spoken to her in that odd dialect, but God! How she loves hearing his voice change when slips into broad Yorkshire. It makes her spine tingle and butterflies erupt in her stomach.

"Are you going to teach me Yorkshire dialect?" she moans eagerly.

"I promised thee, didn' I?"

"Yes..." she murmurs, finding his mouth again. But she doesn't want to learn Yorkshire right this minute, either. And it seems Archie doesn't want to teach her Yorkshire right this minute, either.

* * *

**XI. two young lovers lately wed ~**

She stares at the ceiling, flush and damp and thirsty and surrounded by disheveled pillows and sheets, and she whispers, "God, but I don't want to leave this room. _Ever_."

Beside her, he props up on one elbow and whispers teasingly, "I thought you'd wished to see the gardens about the manor. Now you don't want to?"

She twists to face him, pleased to see that he looks just as she feels, and she laughs softly. "Later. Oh Archie, I love you."

It is worth the expression on his face for her to say it several more times before he kisses her soundly and presses her back into the pillows.

* * *

**XII. little breezes dusk and shiver ~**

The driver of her carriage glances up at her from where he is kneeling on the ground beside the front left wheel, and says apologetically, "I'm sorry, Lady Craven, but th' wheel'll need t' be repaired afore we can go on back t' Misselthwaite. Lucky I caught it b'fore it came off! If tha'll wait, I can fix it as quickly as possible. Or I can go o'er th' hill there, an' send little Charlie, Mr. Brown's younges' boy, back t' th' manor t' fetch thee an'ther an' take thee home, an' I can come back for this one later."

She shakes her head. "There's no need for that, Mr. Thomas. I'll wait, if you don't mind. I can walk a bit about the moor until it's repaired."

He nods, but adds, "Verra well, but please donna walk t'far, Miss. I'll come for thee when it's fixed?"

She nods, and as he rises and begins to gather the tools under the seat to fix the wheel, she turns to face the wide, empty moor.

Only two months ago, she thought the moor was the most beautiful thing in the world, but since then, the snow has melted, turning the dazzling winter wonderland into a brown, ugly landscape bitten with frost. Worse, her husband has been most busy with business accounts since they returned from their short honeymoon in France, and suddenly she finds that she isn't quite as fond of Yorkshire as she was when she first arrived before the holidays. It is so dreary without Archie for the majority of the day, and she hopes that come spring, his business will be concluded and they can spend hours together again, as they did over Christmas. She feels lonely, and she hates to admit it even to herself, let alone anyone else.

She is meandering down the lane while she broods on this, while she festers and feels sorry for herself, and it is several minutes before she realizes that she has left the carriage quite a ways behind her and the brown moor grass is coarse against her skirt. She pause and shivers, despite her long coat, and she looks about at the bleak horizon. She should head back. It wouldn't do to get so far away from her carriage that she becomes lost out in the middle of nowhere.

But just as she turns to head back, she notices a tiny cottage, tucked between the roll of the hills, and a flash of color catches her eye.

Purple?

It is a beacon amongst the brown, and with her interest piqued Lilias begins to walk towards the strange sight. She leaves the path behind and stumbles once or twice in the dips of the land, but she finally reaches the ramshackle little cottage and discovers that the splash of color belongs to a small patch of unfurling crocuses. A feeling of warmth seeps through her body as she bends to brush her fingertips over the pretty flowers. She has yet to see color on the moor. What a wonder, she thinks! Will it all be thus in a few weeks? Oh, but she cannot imagine such beauty!

And then, to her absolute horror, the door of the cottage creaks open.

Lilias tenses fearfully, realizing far too late that she is on someone else's property, and she braces herself for the inevitable heavyset moor woman to step out and snap at the wealthy young lady to go home and get off of her pitiful piece of land.

But to her surprise, a woman of about her own age steps out, with long red hair curling unruly to her waist and pulled back at the nape of her neck, a worn cloak tossed over her shoulders, and a basket on her arm. When she looks up and sees Lilias, she freezes, too.

They stare at each other for a long time, equally startled. Lilias is acutely aware of her nerves and how blue the woman's eyes are, before she _finally _stammers, "I am _so_ sorry. I didn't mean to intrude. I saw the flowers, and…" She trails off, her face flushed. Then she states quickly, "I'll go now. I didn't mean to disturb you."

But before she can move, the moor girl stretches her hand out and steps forward, her eyes wide and hopeful. "Eh, nowt o' th' soart! Wait a mom't if thy please, whilt thee?"

Lilias has yet to learn the intricacies of the strange dialect of board Yorkshire, for Archie hasn't had time to teach her everything, yet. Her confusion must show on her face, for the young woman curtsies and apologizes quickly.

"Eh, I am sorry! Tha's not used t' broad Yorkshire, is thee? Do forgive me! I'm so used t' talkin' it, I don' think 'bout it! Thy mun be Lord Craven's young wife, in't thee, ma'am?"

"Yes, I am. I do wish I knew how to speak and understand Yorkshire! My husband hasn't taught me, yet."

The young woman looks quite pleased and unaffected that Lilias hasn't reprimanded her. "Eh! Tha'll learn quick enow. I'm Susan," she adds. "Susan Sowerby, if you please ma'am."

"Do you live here with your parents? I hope they won't be upset that I –"

Susan laughs. "My parents? Lord, no! I live here wit' my husband an' our two children! My husband works for th' smithee in th' village."

Lilias gasps. "But…! You're so young!" she blurts out, before she can think about what she is saying.

The girl laughs. "I'm one an' twenty, miss. And tha's young, too," she adds.

Lilias finds that she enjoys the girl's cheerful voice so much that she doesn't even think she's terribly impertinent, as many women of society would. Instead, she eagerly asks, "Do forgive me. You have two children, did you say?"

"Aye, Martha an' Dickon-lad." She turns and calls over her shoulder, "Martha! Bring thy brother out t' me, would thee?"

"Oh no, I wouldn't want...! It's far too chilly out; they'll catch cold!"

But Susan laughs again. "Nowt o' th' soart!" She pauses, then corrects herself, "Nothing of th' sort, I mean. Both are healthy children. Why, Dickon's as health a baby as I've ever seen, and I helped raise me younger brothers and sisters when I was a lass!"

The cottage door opens again and a young child with dark hair and a plain face steps out, carrying a bundle topped with red curls. When she sees Lilias, she looks fearful, but upon Susan's encouragement, she finally stumbles forward and hands her brother over.

"Tha's a good girl," Susan says, holding Dickon in one arm and rubbing Martha's dark locks affectionately. "Be polite now, an' curtsy to Lady Craven."

Martha does as she is told, though she immediately ducks behind her mother's skirts.

"Martha is three, and Dickon-lad is six months, he is."

"Oh, but he is adorable!" Lilias sighs as she gazes into the baby's round face, with eyes as blue as his mother's. "He favors you a great deal."

Susan smiles happily. "Aye, I'm afraid he does. He'll be all round an' wide-mouthed I'm afraid. Not much t' look at."

"Oh do stop, you are both quite lovely! He'll be so handsome as he gets older. I just know he will!" She turns then, and smiles at Martha, who is staring at the embroidery in Lilias's coat. Bending down to the girl's eye level, Lilias asks seriously, "And Martha, do you like dolls?"

"Aye, Miss," Martha whispers, hiding behind Susan's skirts still. "But I haven' got one."

"Martha plays out on th' moor mostly," Susan replies conversationally.

"Then I shall bring you a little doll next I come over the moor. Would you like that? You can play with her when you play on the moor!"

Martha's face lights up; she says nothing, but nods eagerly.

Susan blushes slightly as Lilias stands back up. "Eh, Miss, tha's too kind."

"I would like to very much."

A long moment passes, as Susan eyes Lilias appraisingly. Then she says, "Tha doesn' have any friends here, does tha?"

"No. But I didn't have many friends in London, either. So I suppose it's not too much of a change."

Perhaps the bitterness in her voice is evident, for Susan hesitates only a moment before she reaches out and squeezes Lilias's hand. "I know I'm not th' soart o' company a great lady like thysel' would be friends wit'," she falters, "but I'd be righ' pleased if tha'd let me speak t' thee when I see thee."

"I would like that," Lilias says earnestly. "I truly would."

"Eh, but tha's not at all like mun ladies. Why, when I'd heard Lord Craven had married... Well, let's jus' say I'd someone else in mind, I think. I like thee verra much, Lady Craven. Tha's righ' kind."

"I'm afraid I'm _not_ like most ladies. My aunt and brother told me so quite often while I was preparing for my debut. Oh, but I am so glad to be away from London! The air here is so much cleaner, and I don't have to watch myself so carefully."

"Watch thysel'?"

"Yes, whenever I was at a party or tea or some social gathering, I always had to watch what I said, because I was always so afraid of offending someone. My aunt was so strict about it. That's what I loved about Archie the moment I met him – he didn't mind one bit if I was myself instead of a perfect little society girl."

"One should always be thysel'," Susan says seriously, her mouth turning down slightly. "Tha should n'er try t' be somethin' thy's not."

Lilias smiles. "I quite agree."

A voice calls from over the hill, and both ladies turn towards it. A moment later, Lilias's driver comes into sight.

"Oh, that's... My carriage is ready," Lilias says apologetically, turning quickly to Susan. "The wheel had a loose lug, I believe. That was why..."

"Tha was wand'rin' 'bout th' moor, lookin' at th' flowers," Susan finishes.

"It was quite wonderful to meet you. If I may, shall I visit occasionally?"

"Aye, I'd like that verra much!"

Her driver calls to her again, and Lilias quickly says goodbye to her new friend and starts to head towards the road again, her heart much lighter than it was thirty minutes prior. Amazing, she thinks, as she climbs back inside the carriage, how even a cottage girl on the moor can become one's friend, even if her aunt and brother would be appalled.

* * *

**XIII. clothe the wold ~**

It seems that the second spring is a hundred times more beautiful than the first. The flowers are all in bloom, and the ones that she an Archie planted that first year are coming up and unfurling before the sun's warm light. She stands upon the neatly trimmed lawn within the garden, right at the edge of the roses, breathing deeply and simply _living_ the garden.

"Tha should rest a bit, Lilias..."

She hears the slight anxiety in her husband's voice and she smiles and turns towards him. "I'm perfectly fine, Archie."

"Tha's done enow t'day," he insists. "Let Weatherstaff finish the weedin'."

She sighs and brushes her fingers over the pink roses, not bothering to tell him that the man's name is _Ben_, because Archie will continue calling him by his surname just as he does the rest of the servants. It is one of the few differences between her and her husband; she much prefers to call them by their Christian names, against propriety and society's standards, unless they prefer to be called otherwise.

He doesn't wait for her to respond to his statement about resting, either; instead, he takes her hand and guides her to a bench in one of the alcoves. She doesn't protest, for it will do no good, and once there she sits gingerly, taking a moment to let her body relax.

"I had a letter from William yesterday," she finally muses, still gazing across the colorful garden. "He expects to be in Calcutta another two years, at the very least."

"Are you upset by that?" Archie's brow furrows.

She laughs softly. "No. Not particularly. He is happy there, and Ruby enjoys entertaining the elite. Society is fewer in number in India compared to London, and she thrives upon being at the top of the social ladder."

He smiles at her. "Such sarcasm, Lilias."

She shrugs, unconcerned. "I can't help it. Ruby is so frustrating. I do hope their child won't be anything like her." Her hand falls to the bump on her own body. "That really would be dreadful."

His eyes have followed her hand, as they always seem to do now that she is noticeable. "It may be a boy, and just like your brother, you know."

Lilias giggles. "Aye, and that would be just as dreadful, really! William has changed so much." She sighs sadly. "He was never the same after mother and father died. I didn't notice it then, or I didn't realize that he changed because of their deaths. Now, I see it as plainly as anything. He wrote that Ruby is so upset at being pregnant – apparently, she didn't particularly _want_ a child because it will take away from her being able to entertain and enjoy parties and such. And Ruby's despair at the fact means that William won't want the baby, either. It's really so horrible. God, but I cannot imagine not wanting my own child!"

"You," Archie replies firmly, "are nothing like Ruby. You cannot compare yourself to her."

"I know. But Archie, I'm so _happy_. I cannot wait to see if God has blessed us with a boy or a girl. Ruby, though... She will pass her child off to a nanny the moment it is born, and she will be back to hosting parties as soon as she can get to her feet. I feel immensely sorry for my nephew or niece, Archie. More than once, I've wondered if I shouldn't offer to William and Ruby for us to adopt the child. It would do so much better, growing up here –"

"I doubt they would agree to such a notion. Nor can you dwell upon it. There is nothing we can do to change either of them, or help with their child."

"I know, but I wish I could." She watches as a robin darts down to one of the rose bushes and then to the lawn, seeking bugs or worms. "And then I thought, perhaps, once their child is a little older, we could invite him or her to stay with us at Misselthwaite for a summer. That would be a better course of action; they might agree to that. Or at least Ruby would, just to have the child out from beneath her feet for a few months."

Archie looks skeptical.

"What? You don't think that would be a good idea?" Lilias smiles mischievously. "I should like the two cousins to know each other, regardless. And this garden is so wonderful, that even a child of William and Ruby's would fall in love with it. If they didn't, I would declare that they have no heart, and I would send them back to India with my fondest regards and never entertain the notion again."

He finally smiles a little. "Very well. We'll wait and see what happens. If you still wish to invite our niece or nephew here in a few years, we will certainly do so. Now, shall I go find Weatherstaff to finish the weeding? The bluebells are nearly being choked out!"

"Aye," she agrees cheerfully. "They are. I should like that! And have Mrs. Medlock bring some tea?"

"Verra well." He rises, bends, and kisses the corner of her mouth gently, before he turns and leaves.

Lilias sighs and turns her eyes back to her lovely garden – such a wonderful present from her husband – and smiles as the baby kicks. She cannot wait for her child to see this place.

**~ Fin**


End file.
